


I don't want to be the kind of person that makes you proud

by trouserhouser



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Low Self-Esteem, M/M, Pride
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:33:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24006649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trouserhouser/pseuds/trouserhouser
Summary: “See? I told you not to cause a scene. You aren’t really good at making tea.”I did it for you, he thought but remained silent. Because you are worth turning every stone in the world around to see if your lost pride is underneath.
Relationships: Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	I don't want to be the kind of person that makes you proud

**Author's Note:**

> If I am completely honest, I don't know what this is.  
> The idea came spontaneously and so I quickly wrote it.  
> Even though it's a shorty, I hope you like it.

For the fifth time, Max glared down the balcony and wondered if the peacock had finally disappeared from his garden. Not really surprised, he stepped back from the railing and stared at the balcony door instead. This stupid bird upset him, how he presented his feathers. _Fucking courtship behavior._ It was spring, mating time among the animals, but not in his garden for god’s sake! The feathers didn’t even look beautiful, Max thought, and went back into his apartment with a heavy heart. 

The cup of tea in his hand had become cold, so long he had stood outside because he couldn’t handle the situation anymore, so long he had waited for him. The green broth slowly began to settle on the ground. Apparently, the mixture of peppermint and hawthorn should help. 

Max was unfamiliar with the miracle-house-remedies. He spent half his childhood with his father and he certainly wouldn’t have started the effort to rang the neighbour’s doorbell to ask for herbs that help against circulatory collapse. Max sighed and put the cup down on the coffee table. 

The exhausted boy laid on the sofa, his legs raised. What else could he do for him?

He hardly dared to speak, but in the end he opened his mouth, voice rusted. 

“I can only repeat myself and hope that you will see it at some point.” Actually, Max knew that this sentence wouldn’t take him any further. 

Charles groaned louder than he had to. 

“Maybe you want to drill my skull to implant your moral sermon directly into my brain?” The Monegasque became unfair. Why didn’t Charles see that he only wanted the best for him?

“Don’t you see where all of this takes you? As if you hadn’t had a breakdown twenty minutes ago.”

Max followed Charles eyes to the teacup. He had taken the red cup, which Max only took off the shelf when Charles came by. He took the cup and sat down on the sofa to support him drinking. Judging by Charles’s gaze, the stuff tasted exactly as it looked. Max quickly overcame remorse. His thoughts circled around the question, if he had smashed the herbs not good enough. Charles sighed again. 

The Dutch would have really liked to drill Charles’s brain open to see whether everything was in order up there - in his beautiful head. He wondered how Charles could be so stubborn. 

Why did he always need confirmation from _him_?

“See? I told you not to cause a scene. You aren’t really good at making tea.” _I did it for you,_ he thought but remained silent. _Because you are worth turning every stone in the world around to see if your lost pride is underneath._

Admitting his thoughts would have only hurt Charles. He would have to come up with it himself. 

“Want a coffee? Should also help…” Charles shook his head. 

“Then at least stay there.” Max looked at him forcefully. He didn’t know what else he could do to help Charles. 

“Is the peacock still there?” Max pulled out his phone, walked outside and held the camera over the railing. He briefly thought that he had disappeared, but the feathered idiot had just moved five metres to the left under a tree. Max took a photo and showed it to Charles. 

“How do we get him out of there?”, he asked and started an attempt to sit up, but Max wouldn’t let him.

“You don’t do anything. He will find a way out, if he isn’t completely stupid.” He chuckled slightly as he watched Charles fighting against Max’s arm, that held him down. 

Eventually, Max fell down on Charles. He cuddled up to him and made sure, that the other was aware of his support. 

“I won’t let you go.” If possible, he clung even more to Charles’s torso. 

It was weird. If fate wanted him to connect the dots, it had to try harder. A creature couldn’t be more proud than this crappy peacock. His feathers were ugly but he was feeling himself either way. His boyfriend was the opposite. He was handsome and had no pride at all. Max got always told, that he would be Charles’s pride. It was the last thing he wanted. The Monegasque shouldn’t value his worth on other people. Charles thought it was an addition but in the end it was a division that went well below zero. 

If he were not his 100 himself, he would never feel happy. If it were up to Max, it could even be only an 80, then he would give away 20 to him. However, not if Charles is missing almost 100. Max couldn’t give up everything and invest in Charles. That’s not how the scale worked. 

The overthinking boy kissed the other on the forehead and snuggled into his neck. Charles aftershave stimulated his nose and soon his whole brain. No one who adds up their value through others carried such an intense, dominant fragrance. 

When there was a loud rustling outside, Max had to follow the noise. He glanced down at the lawn and the big weeping willow. The wind was blowing calmly through the leaves. 

The peacock was gone. 

**Author's Note:**

> Don't ask me about the peacock. 
> 
> (I named him Alfred.)


End file.
